The Beach
by Trynnity
Summary: This one is very silly. Nagi convinces Crawford to take Schwartz to the beach. Here, the four must prevail against sun, wind, Weiss, umbrellas, beach volleyball, crustaceans, sandcastles that hurt God, and a complete lack of orange penguins.
1. chapter one: the killer frypan

The Beach

By Trynnity

This one is very silly. Nagi convinces Crawford to take Schwartz to the beach. Here, the four must prevail against sun, wind, Weiss, umbrellas, beach volleyball, crustaceans, sandcastles that hurt God, and a complete lack of orange penguins. [Non-Yaoi.]

AN: Yes, unlike a lot of WK fiction, this is non-Yaoi. I have nothing against yaoi (*shuffles feet* Gravitation) but I dislike gratuitously matching everyone up. I also have nothing against Crawford- in fact, I rather like him, although I torment him mercilessly. Kyah. On with the fic.

Dedicated to: my friend and hamster, Rheori Strife, for inspiration, especially in relation to penguins. I understand that when you finish reading this fic, you may not want to be associated with it. This is your problem. (Hee-hee, hee-hee, hee-hee…)

Warnings: None

Read this while listening to: RipSlyme's Tokyo Classic album

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss or Schwartz, even if Aya and Schu do own me. Yesh they do. ^_^

(~*~)

Chapter One: The Killer Frypan; or, A Man Defeated

(In Which Schwartz Is Introduced; Crawford's Daytime Viewing Habits Are Examined; An Air Conditioner Is Not Fixed; The Benefits Of Ear Phones Are Made Apparent, And Nagi Has An Idea)

It was, like, hot.

Like, really hot.

From his second-story window, sitting limply at his desk with a well-thumbed copy of _Snow Crash,_ Nagi could almost see the tarmac bubble.

This was the third such day in a row, and the stifling atmosphere was beginning to wear on the teke's fragile nerves. He suspected the air conditioner had broken down, possibly because of Schuldig's valiant efforts to fix it, but couldn't summon the strength to drift downstairs and investigate the problem. His energy seemed to be evaporating off him in waves.

He returned his waning attention to his book, taking a swig from the tall glass of water beside him- once iced, it was now lukewarm and tasted oddly dry. This, for some reason, was the last straw. Nagi hissed something obscene in Japanese, telekinetically poured the lot onto the carpet and jumped viciously in the soggy puddle, enlivened by sheer frustration. 

He was hot, edgy and very annoyed. He wanted to Share His Feelings With The Group.

"Crawwwwwwforrrrrd..……… I'm _booooooooooooooored_…"

(~*~)

__

Clank.

"Schuldig, you're doing it all wrong."

__

Kerchunk.

"Ach, like _you_ know. I've got it all under contro-"

**__**

Sproing. 

"_Sheisse_! Look what you made me do!"

The fiery-haired German shot to his feet, fiercely brandishing a battered screwdriver in the mildly amused face of Brad Crawford. Strewn around him were the component parts of what was, once, probably an air conditioner, although Crawford doubted it would ever be restored to its former condition. At least, not under Schuldig's inept ministrations. The telepath was many things, but a repairman was not among them.

"Aww. And you almost had it working, too." Crawford was positively radiating smugness, which only served to incense Schu further. Grr. Stupid Crawford. Schuldig considered throwing the screwdriver at him, then decided it probably wasn't worth the effort and flopped onto the couch. 

He glared at the air conditioner, which seemed to return his gaze with Crawfordesque superiority. Schu dropped his spiky orange head into his hands. The thing was _mocking_ him. He had lost. He had been measured, and found wanting. He was A Man Defeated.

He wondered what was on TV.

"Crawwwwwwforrrrrd......"

Chibi-Nagi floated up behind Crawford's shoulder and tapped it pointedly, glaring at the precog reproachfully with overlarge brown eyes. He'd thought that cuteness might give him an edge.

"...I'm _booooooooooooooored_."

"Gah." Schu had turned on the TV, which was halfway through the daytime soap 'Forbidden Romance.' He glanced at Crawford. "I can't believe people actually _watch_ this crap."

"Er. Neither can I."

"Anou…" Chibi-Nagi poked his head around the couch. "Crawford-san, why is the VCR set to record…?"

Crawford sweatdropped. "Umm... Farfie?"

As Schu began to snicker uncontrollably, Crawford folded his arms and stormed into the kitchen, Nagi trailing after him like a chibi-sheep.

(~*~)

"Crawwwwwwforrrrrd......"

Crawford spun around to face Chibi-Nagi. His glasses caught the light in an evil, glarey way, which would have been quite terrifying if the effect hadn't been spoiled by the bright cup of frozen Coke in his hand. (Yes, Schwartz have a frozen Coke machine in their kitchen. Being evil and rich has to have its perks.)

"_What?_"

"...I'm _booooooooooooooored_."

"Go bug Schuldig for a while."

"It's hot. There's nothing to do. Can you take us somewhere?"

"No."

"Why _not_?"

"Because I say so." Crawford whipped out an economy sized can of Chibi-Be-Gone and sprayed Nagi from head to foot, returning him to his former un-chibi state.

"But..." Nagi had a sudden brainwave. "I wanna go to the _beach_."

__

...the beach?

Crawford blanched, then tried to cover it with a nonchalant swig of frozen Coke. Gah. Brain-freeze.

"We're not going to the beach."

"Why _not_?"

"Well, we're obviously not going, because... I don't predict anything of the sort will happen today. Yeah." In actual fact, predictions of a nastily beach-like variety were hovering at the edge of his mind, but Crawford was desperately trying to ignore them. What the kid didn't know couldn't hurt him.

__

Think Minority Report, Brad! If you know your future, you can change it!

Unfortunately, Crawford was concentrating so hard on suppressing his talent that he completely failed to foresee what happened next.

"_Well_, Crawford, I have a prediction too." 

Crawford dredged up a smirk. "And what is that, o thou of zero precognitive ability?" 

"If you _don't_ take us to the beach, then a really heavy frypan will inexplicably and repeatedly hit you on the head. Starting from right about…"

Crawford looked up.

Uh oh.

"...Now."

Being telekinetic was, like, fun.

(~*~)

"99 bottles of beer on the wall," Nagi chirped, "99 bottles of beer... take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall. 98 bottles of beer on the wall..."

With one hand on the steering wheel, Crawford pressed his rapidly melting frozen Coke against his bruised, aching head. Being chased by a killer frypan sucked. But, as he was rapidly discovering, this day had worse torments to offer.

"Schuldig?"

"Yeah, Farfie?"

"How do the bottles stay on the wall?"

"Er, I have no idea. Maybe they're on a shelf."

"Then why isn't the song called '99 Bottles Of Beer On A Shelf?'"

"I dunno, I didn't write it."

Jei Farfarello could not be safely left at home. The last time the members of Schwartz had attempted it, he'd honed every piece of cutlery in the house to razor sharpness without telling anyone. Schu had almost killed himself at breakfast the next morning. Those spoons had a serious edge to them.

And so, here he was. The madman himself. In a car. A car which was going to the beach. And he was seriously questioning the meaning of an inane, repetitive driving song.

"Bottles would fall off a wall. That doesn't make any sense. We should kill the person who wrote it. With a big knife."

"I think they're already dead by now, Farfie." Schu sensibly had his earphones on. Farfarello's Irish-accented eccentricities had to filter through the metal hurricane known as Rammstein (_Asche! Zu Aschen!_) before reaching the telepath's brain. Crawford had no such easy escape.

"That's good. You know, knives would stay in the wall. If it was a plaster wall."

"That's true."

"We should sing a song about knives stuck in a wall."

Schuldig's gaze met Crawford's in the rear-view mirror as he turned the volume on his MP3 player all the way up. "You can do that if you like." 

"Okay!"

He started at 99 Really Sharp Knives In The Wall, and got all the way down to 2 before they arrived. 

Crawford was A Man Defeated.

(~*~)

The Beach.

Well, it was... pleasant enough, Crawford supposed, if you liked that kind of thing. The sand was... sandy. The water was... wet. And the sun was very, very sunny.

Eep.

He wrestled the beach umbrella into submission and sat under it.

Unless you were Crawford, it was a perfect day. The fresh breeze took the burning edge off the heat, although it was still warm enough to make the rolling blue-green waves look very inviting. Schu, clad only in a pair of knee-length black shorts, was already swimming smoothly through the water, his orange hair pulled back in a damp ponytail, while Nagi was still bouncing around ecstatically at the mere prospect of being here. Farfarello, for his part, looked almost philosophical as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

"This beach looks nothing like the beach from _Neuromancer_. That one was dark. This is very... bright."

Nagi nodded. "It is, isn't it Farfie? Whatcha gonna do?"

"Can we kill these people?"

"Nope. If you did that, it would, er, make God happy."

Farfie looked aghast. "Good thing you warned me." Hands in his pockets, he looked down at the younger teke. "So what can you do here that hurts God?"

The real question was: how to keep Farfie harmlessly entertained?

"Well, you could... build sandcastles..."

"_That_ hurts God?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Nagi clutched at straws. "You see, God made the sand, and when you, er, lump it all together... it destroys its natural order. And makes God cry."

Farfarello's eye was shining.

"Putting shells on them is _really_ painful."

Damage done, Nagi sauntered away, grinning. The beach was fun, but it was more fun when you didn't have to keep an eye constantly on Farfie. This gave you more time to look at other things. Like nice shells, and girls, and waves and, well, girls.

He drifted along, looking to see if he could spot any of the above. As a matter of fact, he could see a group of girls up ahead, but they appeared to be talking to someone. Or, at least, someone else was talking. They were doing a lot of laughing and hair-tossing.

He stopped short.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, as if in recognition.

Someone had a portable stereo here. It was playing "Velvet Underground".

"So, how old did you ladies say you were?"

Yohji Kudou?!


	2. chapter two: flight of the bradley

The Beach

By Trynnity

Chapter Two: Flight of the Bradley; or, An Empty Void, Where Once Were Penguins

(In Which Weiss Is Introduced; The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Organised; Farfarello Reminisces On His Childhood; Crawford Reaches New Heights, And A Crab Is Seriously Injured)

((AN: This chapter is dedicated to Alissa Takeda, who worked her ass off for far too long rehearsing for her SOLO dance concert. And she was freaking brilliant ^^ Her dedication puts me to shame. If you review this fic, please congratulate Alissa. She's awesome.))

Nagi froze to the spot, attempting to make himself inconspicuous by camouflaging himself in a handy clump of seaweed. Thus disguised, he scuttled along the sand like a crab, closer to their fiercest rivals.

It was certainly the tall, wavy-haired Kudou at the centre of the admiring fan club- admiring, despite the fact that he was wearing an unbuttoned, bright orange Hawaiian shirt. Ken Hidaka, Martini in hand, was tanning on a deck chair in shorts and shades, while enthralling another group of scantily clad women with the highly exaggerated tale of some top-secret mission. The huge, complex sandcastle behind him probably concealed Omi Tsukiyono, although it could also have concealed a small army, including their weapons, food supplies and means of aerial transport. 

That was some sandcastle. Farfie would have burst into tears of joy.

But where was the fourth member of Weiss?

__

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm...

The faint sound of a high-powered engine filtered through the clumps of dripping seaweed that covered Nagi's head. He made a shuffling 180 turn- a difficult task when sitting cross-legged on the sand, covered in aquatic plant life- and squinted out to sea, absently flicking a small disgruntled crab off his ankle. The crab skittered across the sand and landed on its back, waving its legs pitifully, but Nagi's attention was by now elsewhere.

__

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm...

...nyyowwrm nyyowwrm nyyowwrm nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrm...

A midnight black Kawasaki jetski bounced over the horizon on the crest of a huge wave, leaving a V-shaped wake of pale foam as it screamed towards the shore. Fast. Very fast. And it had no visible intention of slowing down. The girls who had at first been watching it with interest began to mumble vaguely and sidle behind each other.

__

nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrm

Nagi attempted a hard-reverse scurry and fell flat on his back.

__

nyyowwrmnyyowwrmnyyowwrm**VWOOSHHHHHH.**

The Kawasaki's lone rider, clad in a dark, expensive-looking wetsuit, pulled to a stop at the last possible second by whipping the back end of the jetski around in a sideways motion. Consequently, everyone in the vicinity was drenched with a fan of spray. The bikini girls yelped and held up their hands reflexively to shield their faces. Yohji, left standing at the front as the girls dispersed, blinked in annoyance as his expertly styled hair was slicked against his head like a well-used mop. Omi's sandcastle looked untouched.

"Hehe."

Aya Fujimiya cut the engine with a smirk and disembarked, stretching idly. "Anyone else wanna go?"

Ignoring glares from his team mates and covert glances from their respective fan clubs- why do Weiss get all the chicks? pondered Nagi- Aya blinked down at the sopping lump of seaweed near his feet. The spray of water had done much towards melting his disguise, so Nagi shut his eyes tightly in the desperate hope that they would be equally unable to see him. 

Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. Aya poked at Nagi's ribs cautiously with a toe. Ever ticklish, Nagi couldn't restrain a manic giggle. 

__

Discovered! Damn this accursed weakness! 

He snapped to his feet, wet, sandy and weed-draped, and glared up at Aya from his disadvantaged height.

Aya tilted his head. "Hey… aren't you that kid from Schwartz?"

Nagi scuffed the sand. "Er. No."

"Yeah, you are." Fujimiya's violet glare was disconcerting. He'd attracted the attention of Yohji and Ken, and a sandy head poking around the Fort Knox sandcastle suggested that Omi, too, was aware of his presence.

"Guess that means the rest of Schwartz is here too."

"No! I'm on my own! Er, well, not on my own, exactly, um, anou… My brother is back there and he's bigger than you…"

"Nagi?"

With what seemed a stunningly bad sense of timing, Schuldig's voice rang out from somewhere over Nagi's left shoulder. He was barefoot and dripping wet, which somehow didn't detract from his presence. "Hn. Fujimiya."

Aya programmed his face for Bishie Expression #32- Cool Disregard- and then realised he didn't know the German's last name.

"…Schuldig."

Yohji and Ken took an almost imperceptible step forward. For a few seconds, the atmosphere was charged like a toaster sunk into a spa pool. Nagi prepped his telekinesis for Deck Chair Throwing.

Schu grinned lazily. "What a coincidence. I was just about to drag Nagi back for a game of... beach volleyball."

The two exchanged Bishie Expression #4- Dramatic Glare (Close Up Shot).

"I don't suppose you'd like to join us?"

__

Or are you... scared?

Had Schu dropped that thought into everyone's head? Or was it just one of those things that didn't need to be said? 

Either way, it had the desired effect.

Yohji folded his arms. "_Ore-tachi wa… Weiss da._ We never back down from a challenge."

Schu could look quite innocent when he tried. "A challenge? Hell, we're all off duty, Kudou, don't be so uptight. It's just a friendly match."

__

Ahuh, thought Nagi, _friendly like a bullet to the head. I'm staying riiiiight here. Where it's safe._

Ken punched the air. "_Yosh'! Iku zo!_"

(~*~)

"Pah."

Crawford brushed down the sleeves of his jacket, where vast quantities of windblown sand had settled in the creases. The wind was really picking up. Overhead, the beach umbrella, blessed giver of shade, strained at its supports.

He was, undoubtedly, the only one on this stretch of beach to be wearing a long white jacket, sleeveless shirt and pants, although he felt comfortable in his prescription sunglasses. It was unpleasantly hot, but he doggedly ignored this indignity, concentrating instead on his book. _How To Win Friends And Influence People._ It never failed to make him laugh out loud.

Presently, there was a tap on his shoulder. Crawford looked up into the scarred, sandy, oddly wistful face of Jei Farfarello. "What do you want, Farfie? Weren't you building sandcastles?"

"I was. Look." There were indeed a lot of haphazardly shaped sandcastles, studded prolifically with shells, arranged to form the words "Kill God."

"Well…" A gust of wind made the umbrella creak ominously. "Go build some more."

"I will."

"Good." Crawford returned his attention to his book and snickered.

"But Crawford…"

He put down the book with a thump. "Are you _still_ here?"

"Crawford, I just wanted to ask you about the penguins."

"…penguins?"

"When I was very young... my mother used to tell me a story about a little boy who went to the beach and met a tribe of beautiful orange penguins. At first he was afraid, but the penguins started to talk to him. They were nice, friendly penguins, who lived in a world beneath the sand."

"Farfie, what the hell are you-" Crawford looked up at him in exasperation, only to find him staring out into the waves, the usual manic glee absent from his face.

"The little boy had never had friends before, because the other kids would laugh at him. They'd sneak up behind him and hit him with their toys, or throw food at him. And the little boy would never see it coming, because he only had one eye. But the penguins didn't do that. The penguins never made him angry. He never hurt the penguins at all."

Crawford sweatdropped, at a loss. "Uhh…"

"So I'm looking for the penguins. I wanted to thank them for being nice to that kid."

What was Crawford to say? Did he have the heart to shatter this broken man's dreams? 

To reduce his one happy childhood memory to a hollow lie? 

To tell him that, in fact, there were no penguins?

Well, yeah, but that wasn't the point…

"Yo, Farfie."

"Hello Schu. I was just telling Crawford about the penguins."

"Penguins later. C'mon Farfie, Brad, Weiss is here and we need you to play beach volleyball."

Crawford glomped the umbrella. "Staying here."

"Ach, but then we'll be short a player, and Weiss will win."

"Staying-"

__

Whoosh.

The wind almost blew Schu off his feet, blasting sand against the bare skin of his chest. He staggered, colliding with Farfie, who lost his balance totally and knocked him to the ground, flailing. Schu covered his eyes with his forearm, hearing a splintering _crack_ and a rapidly fading "Kyaaaaa!" from somewhere in the sandy darkness.

When he tentatively opened them again, Crawford was gone.

So was the umbrella.

Schu stared.

(~*~)

Clinging desperately to the umbrella's broken handle, Crawford barrelled along the beach like a hyperactive windsurfer, colliding with dogs, seaweed, other umbrellas and the occasional human. Or so he assumed. His eyes were shut.

Once the force of the wind had actually lifted him off the ground, he dared to open them a crack. And then hurriedly shut them.

Crawford's long jacket whipped around him, and his hair beat against his face. His hands were slick with sweat. He couldn't be certain he was over water. And even if he was, he couldn't swim. This didn't look good.

Hanging from the smooth wood by his hands, Crawford struggled wildly to focus his precognitive talent. If he was going to die, he'd rather be prepared for-

And then he smiled.

For the first time that day, he liked what he saw.

(~*~)

Schu looked from Aya to Ken and Yohji, and smiled with what he hoped was Bishie Expression #18- Unruffled Calm In The Face Of Adversity.

The volleyball net had been set up, although the recent wind had almost torn it down again, and a crowd had gathered around the edges of the roughly marked playing area. Three members of Weiss. And at the moment, it was Schu and Farfie against the world. Schu did not like these odds. He'd probably do better by himself.

"Crawford's going to be here any minute now."

He didn't need to be telepathic to read their disbelief. Aya raised an eyebrow- he'd abandoned his wetsuit for a pair of dark blue boardshorts. "That's what you said five minutes ago, Schuldig. If you really think you can't win against us, we can call the whole thing off." He waved a hand absently, a gesture which encompassed the crowds of waiting fangirls.

Schu sweatdropped and shook his head adamantly. No way were Weiss going to scoop all the chicks- again. "We're still in."

"All right, then." Yohji smirked. "If we don't see Crawford some time in the next… three seconds… then the game will continue regardless." He looked ostentatiously at his watch.

"One…

"Two…

"Th-"

"Look!" shouted a Random Fangirl. "Up in the sky!"

"Is it a bird?" asked another bikini-ed bishoujo.

"Is it a plane?"

"NO! It's… not a plane, dumbass. It's round. And it's getting closer."

"Birds aren't round either."

"Some of them are."

"Like what?"

"Well... penguins are pretty round."

"_Penguin?_"

"That ain't no penguin, Farfie." Schuldig grinned. "That's Crawford."

Indeed it was.

Brad Crawford fell from the heavens, an angel in white, his hair swooshing dramatically as his trenchcoat snapped out behind him in the airstream. His was a slow and measured descent, buoyed by the large, black beach umbrella over his head. Assured that his death was not imminent, he held it casually in one hand like an apocalyptic Mary Poppins. Make that Mary Poppins... in sunglasses.

He touched down without so much as stumbling, flipped the umbrella and handed it to a pair of Random Fangirls, who squeaked. He could feel the sun on his face already, but he'd be damned if he was going to show weakness now. Hooking a thumb into his pocket, he surveyed Weiss from behind his dark shades, a small smirk touching his lips.

__

Daaaamn, Crawford, that was hella stylish. One-liner time.

"I hope you don't mind me... dropping in..."

__

Yesss! Who's the man?

"...But I'd never pass up an opportunity to see you three beaten into the ground. My coat, if you please." Crawford shucked his jacket- hell, he had about twenty others. White was, like, _so_ hard to keep clean- and held it out to the side, where the lucky fangirl who snared it was swamped by a crowd of others.

Aya slid on a pair of shades.

Crawford brushed back his hair.

Farfie grinned like a homicidal iguana.

The games were only just beginning.

Stay Tuned For Chapter Three: Extreme Volleyball; or, Sand Wars- The Nagi Strikes Back!

(In Which The Aforementioned Seriously Injured Crab Is Introduced Properly; The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Begun; Omi Devises Diabolical Schemes Against Nagi; Nagi Devises Diabolical Schemes To Counteract Omi's Diabolical Schemes, And Farfarello Takes Matters Into His Own Hands)


	3. chapter three: extreme volleyball

Chapter Three: Extreme Volleyball; or, Sand Wars- The Nagi Strikes Back

(In Which The Aforementioned Seriously Injured Crab Is Introduced Properly; The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Begun; Omi Devises Diabolical Schemes Against Nagi; Nagi Devises Diabolical Schemes To Counteract Omi's Diabolical Schemes, And Farfarello Takes Matters Into His Own Hands)

This chapter is dedicated to: Lain, and all future members of the Anime Club. [It's Otakutastic! XD]

You should now read this while listening to: Summer Days by Do As Infinity. (Give Me A Freakin' Break!)

((AN: I know, this is late. Really late. But it's here. Thanks for the encouragement, chummers. ^__^ 

In response to Kyra's comments: Thankyou. I appreciated your constructive criticism. No, I don't know much about Farfie's past. My knowledge of the Japanese language does extend some way beyond 'kawaii' and 'sushi', but since I'm writing in English, and the characters are (mostly) speaking and thinking in English, I have a tendency to anglicise and thus put the names in the English order. Yes, Rammstein kicks ass. And the valley-girlesque beginning of the first chapter is, er, something of a personal joke. ^^ Hai. On with the fic.))

Damn, it was quiet...

Nagi picked a long strand of seaweed out of his hair and thwapped it moodily onto the ground. He'd become quite used to the chaos that was life in Schwartz. Silence was a blessed, elusive thing, usually found only at three o' clock in the morning when he sat at his computer with a mug of instant misoshiru. Experiencing it anywhere else made him edgy.

He almost regretted not taking part in the volleyball match. It could have been fun. His chibi looks and dark, soulful eyes might have attracted the interest of some of those Random Fangirls. Maybe Weiss would have even forgotten that he was telekinetic, and put their devastating loss down to superior skill on Nagi's part.

Then again, maybe not.

He dipped a toe into the water, mentally shaking himself. _C'mon, lighten up. You got your wish! You're at the beach! Sun, surf, sand! Hurrah! Fun fun fun for everyone whose name isn't Bradley J. Crawford!_

Hn.

If crickets ever appeared on the beach in the middle of the day, they would have been chirping right now. Sadly, these crickets had no sense of narrative convenience.

Maybe he'd go collect some shells, undisturbed by the distant crowd, and then take a leisurely swim in the sun-warmed waves. That sounded like a good idea. A small smile crept across his lips as he stood and surveyed the domain that was, for now, his and his alone. Crystal sea, golden shore, blue unclouded sky, trail of fragile shells and driftwood sketched along the coastline, rapidly approaching sand dune, graceful gulls winging their way across the... 

Wait a second. Approaching sand dune?

_"FIRE IN THE HOLE!!"_

Pop.

Splat. Splat. Splat. Splat.

_"GOTCHA, SCHWARTZ!"_

Fwump.

Blink.

What just happened?

Well, he was wet. He was alone. There was a ragged hole in the sand in front of him. Scraps of what appeared to be brightly coloured rubber littered the ground. And someone, hidden from view yet uncomfortably close by, was giggling madly.

This could only mean one thing.

He'd just been waterbombed, by Omi Tsukiyono.

Nagi pivoted fast, his battle senses rising up around him like a shield. Goddamn it, he was a dripping, angsty, wet, psionic-power-slinging bishie _bad guy_. To hell with fighting fair. He was going to tear that little Weiss punk _apart_.

...Except he'd have to do it, well, kinda slowly, sort of thing. Because not only was Tsukiyono out of sight and possibly armed, but he'd apparently constructed a vast network of underground tunnels. And tearing through the place like a telekinetic cyclone would land Nagi under six feet of sand very, very quickly.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and the sand off his damp black T-shirt, summoning Bishie Expression #40- Knowing Smirk. He was alone behind enemy lines, confronting a known and hated foe, avenging the honour of Schwartz. He did not need a weapon. He _was_ a weapon. This mission called for the silent speed and ninja stealth of the Mayfly.

Nagi dived down the tunnel Omi had recently vacated.

Mwa. Ha. Ha.

(~*~)

Wild applause.

The self-appointed referee, a tanned Japanese girl in a pink string bikini and matching floral shorts, blew a long _fweep_ on her whistle for silence. "Ladies and ladies, may I present to you- Ken..."

Mock bow, charming smile.

"...Yohji..."

Pose. Suggestive wink.

"...And Aya..."

The deep, enigmatic, soul-searching stare that was every bishie's well-rehearsed Expression #1.

"Team Weiss!"

Wild applause.

"And on your left, we have Brad..."

Ooh, shiny glasses.

"...Schuldig..."

Casual hair-flick. Someone in the crowd whistled.

"...And Farfie..."

Well, the creepy manic grin was almost obligatory.

"Team Schwartz!"

Slightly hesitant applause. 

"Tokyo rules. First team to fifteen points wins. The score stands at zero." Her smirk would have put Nagi to shame. "It's playtime, boys."

_Fweeeeep,_ went the whistle.

She threw the ball into the air.

(~*~)

_July 21st, 1300 hours._

_War is hell._

_Can't say for sure how long I've been down here- down in this dark, twisting, endless maze of passages. The heat is cruel. In hindsight, might have been unwise to attempt this mission without proper supplies. Thoughts of unopened pack of strawberry Pocky threatening to drive me insane. So smooth, so sweet, so creamy, so... _

_Damn it, Nagi. Be strong._

_Have sighted the enemy. Despite being unarmed, endeavoured to engage him in combat, only to watch him turn tail and run- like the coward that he is. Shrewdly attempted to follow tracks left in the soft sand. After observing tracks crossing over, suspected enemy was following me at a distance. After observing tracks crossing over themselves several times, now suspect tracks to be mine._

_Need. Water._

(~*~)

Ken was off like a shot, running with the speed and agility of a former J-league superstar, intent on the spinning white sphere that seemed to hover, motionless, above the lurid orange net. Time slowed as he leapt skywards- his face set, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, lips parting slightly as if to form the word "Kase"...

Almost a shame, really, that Farfie beat him to it, causing him to face-fault into the ground.

"First point goes to Team Schwartz!"

Cheers.

"Destroying people's fantasies hurts God."

_Fweeeeep_

Ken spat out a mouthful of sand, an unlucky crustacean and a collection of words unsuited to a G-rated fic.

Brad took the ball, his shades flashing silver, standing poised a moment under the harsh sun before launching it towards the far corner of the crudely marked court. Yohji, however, had apparently forseen this move with Crawfordian accuracy, three easy strides positioning him directly below it before a sound punch sent it spiralling into the air. Schuldig leapt into play inches from the net, spiking the ball almost vertically downwards where it seemed doomed to splatter into the sand, but Aya rose up like an angel in avenging boardshorts, his spectacular save eliciting a tumult of spontaneous applause from the watching fangirls. Farfie made a desperate lunge for the ball, missed, slammed into Schuldig, then bounced off against the net as the ball landed smugly on Schwartz's side.

"Point for Team Weiss!"

Cheers.

"Nice work... Fujimiya."

"Hn. Hard luck there..." _does this guy even _have_ a last name?_ "...Schuldig."

Schu dusted the sand casually from his bare shoulders, meeting Aya's gaze through the bright lattice of the net. "Well, it's not over yet." 

The two exchanged a long, cold stare.

"Not by a long shot."

Aya allowed himself a smile. "I'll take my chances."

The whistle shrilled again.

(~*~)

_July 21st, 1307 hours_

_Losing track of time. Resolve weakening. Plagued by thoughts of strawberry Pocky. Narrowly avoided enemy ambush by tripping on strategically placed rock, followed by swift tactical retreat. Judging by artillery range, suspect enemy has somehow fitted bombs to crossbow._

_Tried to dig for water in abandoned tunnel- found it salt. Set out in one last, desperate search for daylight, risking the dangers of paths untravelled. After two minutes, tripped in previously excavated waterhole. Tunnels more fiendishly complex than Maze of the Minotaur or Alleyway map in Counter-Strike. Should have brought water and Pocky; also long piece of string. _

_A lesser man might have lost hope long ago. Conversely, despite present situation, have since formulated plan to bring about Tsukiyono's destruction._

_Mwa. Ha. Ha._

(~*~)

"Half time, and the score stands at nine to seven- in favour of Team Weiss!"

Cheers.

"We'll take a short break now, see you all back here in fifteen minutes. Until then, a message from our sponsor, the Pocky Patrol..."

Neither trio of assassins were giving much thought to their youngest members, locked in deadly battle beneath the dunes a hundred metres away. As much as they denied taking any of it seriously, Crawford and Schuldig were hell-bent on breaking their rivals' tenuous hold on victory, while Aya, Ken and Yohji were equally set on standing their ground. Farfie didn't really care either way. He'd been here for hours without seeing a single penguin, orange or otherwise. This was a matter for concern.

The fangirls, for their part, had their bishies to watch- hot, tired, and angsty as they were, touchingly grateful for their cold drinks and shoulder massages. So it was that no-one paid attention to the small red crab that had been toiling its slow, furious way across the sand since its unfortunate encounter with Ken. By some miracle of narrative convenience (a concept which crustaceans, unlike crickets, are all too familiar with) this was the selfsame crab previously injured by Nagi's careless actions a mere chapter or so earlier. 

This crab's name was Steve. 

Regrettably, Steve was not a crab that would be easily pushed around; verily, not a crab who would silently submit to abuse and neglect. 

He was an _angry_ crab. He was a crab with _connections_.

And he wanted _revenge_.

(~*~)

Anyone who was even casually acquainted with Schwartz's flame-haired telepath would tell you that the German liked to drink. Vodka, sake or Berlin schnapps for preference, although Schuldig had also been known to consume scotch, beer, various good wines,  ouzo, tequila, martinis (both shaken and stirred), bourbon, cognac, Spanish rum, and other assorted alcoholic beverages, often within several minutes of each other.

But he couldn't remember the last time any of these had tasted as good as this bottle of clear, fresh, ice cold water.

Apparently winning wasn't everything- that, or some of these girls made a habit of supporting the underdogs, because the flock beside Schwartz's umbrella was equal in size to the crowd milling around Weiss. Schu reclined in a deckchair, aforementioned water bottle in hand, a damp towel slung around his neck, while a blonde in a black one-piece worked some of the tension from his shoulders.

He had to hand it to himself. This volleyball game had been a _really_ good idea.

Crawford was receiving similar treatment, outwardly calm and sleek as a cat, but his eyes were uncharacteristically nervous behind his impenetrable black sunglasses. In the midst of the game, he'd been hit by a sudden wave of jumbled predictions, gone as quickly as they'd come. But the sense of stark horror that lingered in his mind had been enough to make him miss an easy shot and cede a point to his enemy. The precog had seen many terrors in the course of his life, and he'd always come through unscathed. But this was different. This was... _unthinkable_.

He glanced reflexively down at his bare forearms.

_Calm, Brad. Stay calm._

He needed a distraction. Something to clear his mind. 

Maybe he'd enlist a little help in applying his sunscreen.

_And Farfarello stood apart, stared out into the waves, pushed a small object absently back into his pocket, and waited..._

(~*~)

_July 21st, 1330 hours_

_Last stage of plan finally complete._

_Back-breaking, tedious work much advanced by careful use of telekinesis. Enemy remains out of sight, evidently oblivious to brilliant strategy currently in progress. V. good._

_Fortunate news. Edges from brink of darkest despair, fell skilfully through poorly constructed wall and discovered cache of enemy's emergency rations. No Pocky; however, granted new reserves of strength by life-giving Gummi Bears. Broke at last into daylight just outside enemy's main defences, but returned to the underdark after short reconnaissance mission and brief period of sun-worshipping. Incas, Aztecs etc. possibly on to something._

_With all pieces in place, preparing for final gambit. Commencing Operation Mayfly._

_This is a battle I intend to win. _

(~*~)

_Fweeeeep_

"Point for Team Weiss! Twelve points to eleven- Weiss still leads!"

Farfie blinked up at his teammates from the sand and managed, somehow, to shrug.

"Farfie, for Go- for Chri- for _Takatori_'s sake, can't you try and pay attention? What are you looking at out there anyway?"

"DID YOU SAY TAKATORI?"

"No need to make excuses, Crawford. You want to call the match off, it's up to you."

"Yeah, you wish, Hidaka. Want us to really start playing?"

"Bring it on, ya red-headed freak... You really expect us to believe that's your natural colour?"

"Oho, going for _personal_ comments, are we Kudou? 'Least I don't have to spend _forty-five minutes_ with a _hairdryer_ in the _dressing room_ every morning..."

"Wha? How'd you- Son of a- " 

_Fweeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_

The tension ran like a current through the stifling air, through the crowds of breathless fans, crackling almost perceptibly. Aya slammed his opening serve through the gap between Schuldig and Farfie as though the soft, innocent globe was Takatori himself. But Crawford moved too fast, the sun blinding against his immaculate white apparel, lips curled into a cold smile as he parried the Weiss leader's blow. The ball shot back and forth between them almost too fast for the eye to follow, Crawford's shades glinting, Aya's red ponytail whipping dramatically in the wind. Schuldig deflected a long shot from Aya with a confident header that threatened to escape Ken entirely, but Yohji leapt valiantly into the fray, swiping at the ball for all he was worth.

Only there was a little too much pent-up, hairdryer-inspired anger behind Yohji's strike. The much-abused volleyball buried itself in the sand a full metre outside the lines of the court.

"Out! Point for Team Schwartz!"

Cheers.

"Twelve points apiece, as we reach the final stages of the game. That means that the first team to score three more points will be today's champion."

Three more points.

Fists clenched.

Eyes narrowed to slits.

The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife.

All...

Or nothing.

"Clichéd tiebreaker standoffs hurt God."

--Stay Tuned For Chapter Four: Mission Improbable; or, Crustacean's Revenge!--

(In Which The Beach Volleyball Tournament Is Concluded; Penguins Ensue; Schwartz Meet Their Match; Crawford's Worst Fears Are Realised, And Stupid And Implausible Things Happen)


End file.
